


fireflies where my caution should be

by lilithqueen



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: A Softer World Prompts, Age Difference, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Pining, THE SMUT AND THE REASON FOR THE RATING HAS ARRIVED, but really just prompt responses in general, only in chapter 6 tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-05-09 06:22:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14710763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilithqueen/pseuds/lilithqueen
Summary: Estinien. Alphinaud. Their feelings for each other.And a series of unconnected vignettes.***You're not telling me that ARR/HW/SB took less than three years, if not 4. The sheer logic of travel times demand it. Alphinaud's about 19+ in these, and in everything I write.





	1. Ah, unrequited love. When your best isn’t enough. (Participation medals of the heart.)

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, did you know I have a tumblr? The prompt post I used for these chapters is [here](http://notapaladin.tumblr.com/post/173865878224/50-a-softer-world-prompts), and you can send me more! You can also use it to yell at me about ships!
> 
> For shippy things, feel free to visit [ship-to-hell.](http://ship-to-hell.tumblr.com/)

He couldn’t tear his eyes away. Their Warrior and Ysayle had gone to face Ravana; worry was a constant, nauseous buzz in the back of his mind, gnawing at the pit of his stomach, but in a desperate bid to distract himself his gaze had fallen on Estinien and _he could not look away_.

The man had sat down with his back to a tree, inspecting a minute nick in the surface of his spearblade. He’d taken one gauntlet off to run careful fingers over the flat of it; his hands were rough and calloused, but his touch was as gentle as a lover’s. Alphinaud had to turn his thoughts away from how they might feel on his skin. Surely he was going to notice Alphinaud’s staring and look up. Surely. Any moment now. In the meantime, he could watch. It was strange to see Estinien so still.

Silence stretched on. The Vath chattered to each other in their own tongue, far beyond Alphinaud’s comprehension. The Warrior’s reassuring grin had branded itself into his mind. _They could be dead in the Gnath hive right now and I can do nothing. Nothing._

The sun was starting to set.

“I--”

Estinien lifted his head in a motion that reminded him vaguely of a coeurl. “Hm?”

Pacing calmed his nerves, gave him something to do other than sear under Estinien’s gaze. “They’ve been gone for some time. Do you think we should go to them?” _The Warrior has many adventurer friends, surely I can call in favors…_

“They’ll be fine.”

“But--”

“ _Boy_.” He sounded more exasperated than usual. As he rose to his feet, Alphinaud stopped pacing; when a heavy, gauntleted hand came down to ruffle his hair, he was mortified to hear himself squeak. He was even more mortified when Estinien snorted, shaking his head. “You fret too much. Sit down.”

He jerked away and knew he was red all the way to the tips of his ears. “I believe I am being appropriately cautious, thank you.”

“Fretting.” Estinien was smirking at him. He hated that he found it attractive.

He sat down anyway, gaze fixed on the southern mountains where the Gnath had built their hive, and tried very hard to clear his mind. Worrying over things that he couldn’t change would not help.

When his gaze slid over to where Estinien had taken up a lounging position by his tree, the dragoon was still smirking at him. He barely resisted the urge to bury his face in his hands and scream.


	2. I think I’ve got fireflies where my caution should be. (Instead of slowing down, I just shine brighter.)

This had to be the stupidest thing Estinien had ever done. There were strong contenders, of course—a spectacular night of drinking with Aymeric had once started a chain of events that had led to his banishment from the Borel library until Viscountess de Borel had gone to Halone’s halls—but nothing had ever had the potential to backfire quite as spectacularly as this could. The consequences of failure were…

Well. He would probably have to change his name and move to the New World.

At least his— _Alphinaud_ was easy to spot in the crowd of people around Raubahn’s pavilion. He’d grown tall enough to stand shoulder to shoulder with the Warrior, and his hair shone like a beacon in the sunlight. From the sound of it, whatever meeting he’d been involved in was winding to a close. _Finally. They’_ _ve been going over the details of tomorrow’s push into Garlemald for bells._ The part of the offensive that involved him had been decided upon for days; he’d hoped to talk to Alphinaud then, but there had been no space for the conversation he wanted to have in between all the meetings and strategizing this war required.

He saw an opening and took it, winding his way through soldiers and adventurers. Alphinaud saw him when he was halfway there; the open joy on the young man’s face did something unpleasant to his heart. For a moment, he found himself needing to focus on breathing. _In. One, two, three. Out._

“Oh, Estinien!”

His name on Alphinaud’s lips was the sweetest thing he’d ever heard. Belatedly, he nodded a greeting. “Alphinaud.”

And Alphinaud was drawing closer. If he dared, he could rest a hand on the small of his back to lead him through the crowd—but he was in civilian clothes, and the thought of that much contact at this moment felt like static in his mind even without Alphinaud smiling up at him. “It’s been a while. What would you have of me?”

 _Everything._ He wished he’d brought flowers. He should have brought flowers. He caught Alphinaud’s gaze directly and held it; here, drowning in the blue of his eyes, there was no space for any pretty words. “Come eat with me. There’s wine in my tent.” Slowly, he reached for his hand and prayed there would be understanding, or at least not outrage, when his calloused fingers met smooth skin.

He watched as Alphinaud’s blush spread all the way to the tips of his ears, and belatedly wondered if he ought to have asked in private. People were watching with interest—oh, but Alphinaud was grabbing his hand, lacing their fingers together, and _beaming_ at him. “I would love to.”

Someone whistled. He ignored them. Alphinaud, not content with simply holding hands, was gazing up at him with shining eyes and pressing close enough that he could easily dip his head for a kiss, and he was not about to ignore the clear opportunity. It was hot and sweet and all too brief; Alphinaud broke away with a hiss of “We have an _audience_ ,” and he felt himself grinning wildly.

“Let’s take this somewhere more private. Hang on to me—tightly.”

Dragoon jumps had their uses out of combat.


	3. absence makes the heart go...somewhere

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ngl this wasn't a prompt it just popped into my brain. enjoy.

In the end, Estinien doesn’t stay away from him because he wants to. He could be an ocean away, a continent away, half the _world_ between him and Alphinaud Leveilleur, and he thinks every shift of his aether would flow towards the boy. Even catching a glimpse of his shining white hair in a crowd is enough to send a bolt of joy through his heart. As he stretches out (alone, always alone) in his tent, he wants nothing more than to be curled around him.

And that, of course, is the problem. He’s always been alone; not even Aymeric, his dearest friend, had ever managed to insinuate himself as deeply into his heart as Alphinaud has–and the boy has never even really _touched_ him. If he ever does…

Estinien knows himself, knows this hollow place in his chest well enough to know that he would never want to let go ever again. 

In the end, Estinien stays away because he’s a coward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also ngl: this was prompted partly by people telling me not to ship the thing. i'm petty.


	4. hear the ringing of the bells (wedding bells)

It is the night before his wedding, and Estinien is polishing his dress armor.

It’s not the armor of the Azure Dragoon. That was a thing of spikes and blades; even the parade dress armor with its long cloak had been filled with outward-facing razors. This set is simpler, with curving lines and elegantly fluted details. It would never hold up in a real battle–-it’s far too light, a pale imitation of the set he wears when he leaps into the fray-–but for tomorrow, it will be as devastatingly effective as its combat version.

Tomorrow he will wear it and walk down the aisle with Alphinaud, hand in hand. Tomorrow they will stand before the priest of Thaliak-–Estinien has never been a very religious man, and the saying _busier than an assassin at an Ishgardian wedding_ , taken with their respective statuses as men with targets on their backs, makes him cautious–-and she will bless their union. Tomorrow, he will dance–-badly--with Alphinaud Leveilleur, take his hand and his name and his heart and call him _husband_.

Tonight, he is polishing his armor.

A few fulms away, Alphinaud stirs sleepily in the bed they normally share, blinking one eye open. “…’stinien.”

He doesn’t need to say, _Come to bed_ , but Estinien hears it anyway, and smiles. “I’m nearly done. Go back to sleep; I’ll join you soon.”

Tomorrow, they will be married. But for tonight, Estinien snuffs the candle, slides back into bed, and wraps his arms securely around his slender fiance. Tonight, they’ll sleep.


	5. your heartbeat like a tattoo in my mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "please tell me what Estinien would do if Alphinaud is sick, too sick and weak to take care of himself"
> 
> I went with pacing and Totally Not Fretting.

It was in the chirurgeons’ hands now. More capable men than him, skilled in the arts of healing, surrounded his Alphinaud’s bed like fluttering moths to a candle flame. He would only get in the way. It made no _sense_ for him to hover.

His boots creaked as he paced the roof outside Alphinaud’s window, the back of his mind a seething morass of thoughts he’d never before tried to untangle. _He’ll be fine. He’s strong. He has the best healers in Eorzea taking care of him. I should…I should go._

He stayed, watching through the window, until the chirurgeons left. _Just to make sure he rests. I know what you’re like, love._

“…Estinien.”

Well, he hadn’t been _hiding_. Really. Honestly. Still, he told himself it was the wind of his leap through empty space that brought the heat to his ears. He came to a stop on the windowsill, fingers digging into the frame to stay the urge to bury them in his beloved’s hair instead. “Go to sleep.”

Up close, Alphinaud didn’t look any better. His face and ears were flushed too vivid a shade of pink, and his bloodshot eyes were hazy. His voice came out a wavering rasp. “Wanted to see you.”

“You’ve seen me.” He swung his legs into the room, crossing to his lover’s bedside and forcing his ears not to pin back. By the Fury, seeing Alphinaud struck low by an enemy he couldn’t fight made him _wroth_. “And if you don’t sleep, you won’t live long enough to _continue_ seeing me, you young idiot.”

Even fighting exhaustion, Alphinaud was giving him a rather wry look. “…you dove through a _cannon_.” The unspoken ‘instead of writing me a letter like any sensible person’ hung in the air.

“…Hmph.” He was too close; there was no resisting the urge. His hand settled on Alphinaud’s forehead, carding through hair soft as thistledown. “I’m not going anywhere.” _I won’t leave you again. I will never leave you again._

Alphinaud slept. So too, eventually, did Estinien.


	6. until i wrap myself inside your heart (i cannot rest)

As soon as the door slammed shut behind them, Alphinaud all but tackled him onto the bed. It was still rumpled from that morning and creaked a little alarmingly under the impact, but Estinien was past caring; Alphinaud was kissing him, one hand buried in his hair, and nothing else mattered. All that did, all he cared about, was the deliciously lithe young man in his arms.

They were both wearing far too many clothes—but no sooner had he though that than Alphinaud was pulling away, straddling his hips, and wrenching at the laces to his shirt. His hair was in disarray, his jacket had hit the floor before they’d even properly entered the room, and he looked divine. “Estinien, _gods_...”

Ah. This was the part he hated. Stripping meant hot, smooth skin pressed against and around and into his own, but it also meant he had to stop touching him—had to stop, even if just for a moment, sliding his hands over Alphinaud’s lean thighs or caressing his long ears, and shed whatever clothes had survived the rush from the conference room where they’d met after _bells_ and Alphinaud had breathed _I missed you_ into his ear. Still, while his shirt joined the pile on their floor, he had to laugh teasingly at his younger lover. “You’re an eager little thing, aren’t you?” _I love it_ , he thought. _I love you._

Alphinaud kissed him roughly, palming him through his trousers and swallowing the groan that always escaped him when he did that. His voice was nearly a growl. “I never should have given you that bloody linkpearl.”

He supposed teasing him with murmured promises throughout the day—how much he’d enjoy ripping off that suit, how one day he really was going to bend Alphinaud over his own desk, how whenever Alphinaud took command of the room it made Estinien want to drop to his knees and suck him off right there—had been a bit unfair. Still, he couldn’t argue with the results. Not even when they included long, slender fingers wrapping around his cock and sliding over the head just lightly enough not to provide any real friction, making him shudder and thrust into the grip. “Grnrh, you damned _minx_...” The thought of pinning Alphinaud under him and coaxing sweet little cries in return briefly flitted across his mind—Fury, it would feel so _good_ —but he’d never wound his lover up quite this much before, and a much larger part of him wondered what he’d be like.

When Alphinaud nipped sharply at his earlobe, sending heat sizzling down his spine, he got his answer. Oh, this was going to be a _fun_ night.

It was only later—much, much later, when Alphinaud had fucked him so thoroughly that his legs felt like jelly and all he could do was sling a boneless arm over his beloved’s shoulders—that he dared to remark, “You know, sweetling, if you meant to _dissuade_ me from calling you during meetings, you did a terrible job.”

Alphinaud hit him with the nearest pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spite: my greatest motivator.


	7. nineteen candles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alphinaud gets an early present for his nameday.

“Have you heard from him recently?”

“Beg pardon?”

“You know—oh, come on. _Estinien_. Wasn’t he gallivanting around the Azim Steppes last time we had word?”

“...I believe so, yes. Why?” He’d memorized his last letter.

“It’s been months. You’re not worried? _I’m_ worried.”

“I daresay the former Azure Dragoon of Ishgard can handle himself.”

“Aye, well, _the Azure Dragoon_ can, but _your boyfriend_ is a morbol-brained—”

“ _Excuse me—_ ”

“ _Idiot_ who wouldn’t—”

“He’s not my boyfriend!”

“Fine, your _lover_ then. He still thinks trying to tank a cannon with his face is a good idea.”

“And he was fine. He _is_ fine. I see no need to worry.” That was a lie. He could think of several reasons to worry, and most of them involved too much blood and cracked platemail and screaming. Not, of course, that he was going to voice any of this to the Warrior of Light, who was grinning in a frankly disconcerting way that had him wondering if her Echo lent itself to mind-reading.

“If you say so. I just hope he doesn’t miss your nameday; that’s soon, aye?”

“Aye—and I do say so. Hrmph!” Besides, he thought. It was probably good that Estinien was off adventuring, that the man had even missed his own nameday. He’d bought several gifts but none seemed _right;_ anything Alphinaud gave him should be _perfect_. The Warrior strode off, smiling, and Alphinaud grimaced. All the time in the world wouldn’t be enough.

He was drifting on the border of sleep that night when his window opened, sending him bolt upright and lunging for his grimoire before he registered that the figure climbing into his bedroom was wearing dragoon’s mail and a surprisingly sheepish expression. He sighed, but couldn’t quite muster up the energy for a glare. “Estinien. You might have used the _door_.”

Estinien Wyrmblood had the nerve to grin at him. “I could have, aye. But this was faster, and I _have_ missed you.”

Alphinaud’s irritation faded as his lover shed his armor and slid into bed, caging him with his arms for a kiss that left him breathless. When Estinien finally pulled away, it took him a moment to remember what had been so dreadfully important to tell him. “You—you also missed your nameday.”

“Oh?” Estinien shifted to kneel between his legs, eyes warm and soft in the dim light. “Do you have a present for me, or must I wait until next year?”

Alphinaud thought briefly about the carefully wrapped whetstones and warm, tightly-woven blankets he’d stored in his closet for the past two months. Then he pulled Estinien forward and into another kiss, making it slow and heated. Estinien went willingly, pressing him down into the bed and utterly ravishing his mouth; when Alphinaud dug his nails into his shoulder, his answering growl seemed to reverberate down to his toes. As Estinien’s lips found his earlobe, he managed to breathe, “Well, I suppose ‘twould be cruel to make you wait that long...”

Estinien’s grin was wolfish. “Glad you agree. Especially as I’ve an early present for _yours_.”

The slow roll of his hips left little doubt as to what that was, and Alphinaud shivered appreciatively. Still, it wouldn’t do to appear _too_ eager; accordingly, he folded his arms behind his head and met Estinien’s grin with one of his own. “Oh? I hadn’t expected any gifts this year. I _do_ hope it’s the same thing you gave me last year...”

Estinien’s eyes gleamed as he slid his fingers lightly over the laces of Alphinaud’s shirt. “Shall I open it for you to see? Or am I allowed to unwrap _my_ present first?”

“Mmm.” A devilish impulse prompted him to add, “If you think you can. I know you’ve been traveling for some time, and five-and-thirty is _quite_ an advanced age; perhaps you’d like a nap first?”

Estinien chuckled, fingers skating over his ribs; as Alphinaud wriggled, biting back his own laughter, he shook his head in amusement. “Brat! For that, I _ought_ to take a nap. You can wait until morning.”

Mercifully, he let up on the tickling; Alphinaud took a moment to catch his breath, chest heaving, and didn’t miss the way Estinien’s gaze seemed to sharpen at the sight. “Hah. You can’t fool me; I know full well you’re not that cruel. And you _did_ say you missed me.”

“Aye.” His voice was soft, but the touch to Alphinaud’s unbound hair was softer. “I did. Next time, I won’t go on any adventures that take me so far from your side. I love you far too much for that.”

 _Oh_. Alphinaud exhaled slowly, meeting his lover’s eyes. “Is that a promise?”

His first answer was a kiss, soft and brief; his second was a murmur. Alphinaud had to prick his ears up to hear “Aye, it is. Now, about those presents...”

Alphinaud grinned up at him. “You’re here, which counts as at least one. But as for the rest...I’m all yours.”

Later—much later, when they were utterly sated and Alphinaud was still shivering a little with the pleasure of it all—Estinien smiled gently and tugged him close, burying his face in his hair. His voice was rough and quiet, and so full of love that it made Alphinaud’s heart twinge. “...Happy nameday, sweetling.”

He sighed, winding one leg around his lover’s hip. There, that was much more comfortable. Estinien made a _wonderful_ pillow. “Happy nameday to you, as well.”

Estinien hummed thoughtfully, twining a lock of Alphinaud’s hair around his fingers. “...Hm. Do you suppose if we snuck down to the kitchens, there would be cake? I understand the Warrior is something of a culinarian.”

He started to reply, but was cut off by his own huge yawn. Ears hot, he murmured, “Maybe...in the morning. Lemoncakes for breakfast...”

Estinien chuckled, nuzzling his ear. “In the morning, then.”

Alphinaud smiled to himself as sleep loomed over them. His nameday was shaping up to be _wonderful_.

  



End file.
